Soft Enough To Bleed

Part 10: Let Them Drown In My Echo

Let Them Drown In My Echo

May they gather around my memory like moths,

Who once mocked the flame -

Come close, darling,

Watch how they blister when they whisper my name.

I was their cautionary tale turned curse turned crown -

They stitched my shame into gossip,

Fed their boredom with my undoing,

Never knowing I was learning to rise,

From the ashes they tucked under my tongue.

Let them drink from the well they poisoned.

I carved gardens from spite,

Grew teeth from betrayal -

I am every rumor they lit on fire

Returning as wildflower and wildfire alike.

When they meet my ghost in their prayers,

Tell them it laughs, tender and sharp -

Tell them I forgive nothing,

Forget less,

And remember their lies like tattoos,

Wrapped around my ribcage for warmth.

To the ones who needed my ruin to feel holy -

May your throats dry each time you say I failed.

May my survival haunt your pillow talk,

May my blooming ruin your taste for cheap revenge.

I bled publicly.

I hurt like a cathedral collapsing.

And still I gather myself;

Every bruised vow, every stolen lover,

Every back turned - mine now, mine forever -

I wear them like medals on a spine they couldn't break.

So pass around my name, spin your fables,

Print your half-truths in the margins of your bitterness -

I want you to know;

I never needed your permission to become honorable.

I am proof that dirt can turn to honey,

When a woman refuses to kneel.

Say it again - louder this time -

Call me ruin, failure, flawed, mad poet.

May your lips crack from envy,

May your lungs tire from keeping up.

I am the echo you choke on at dawn,

The hymn you curse while you kneel,

The storm you could not quiet.

Let this be a love letter to your venom.

I thrive in your spite.

I bloom in your doubt.

And when your tongue splits from bitterness,

Know I am still here -

Writing, laughing, alive.

Let them drown in my echo.

May it taste like everything they swore I'd never become.